#the answer is honestly indeterminate

[codgod]

doodle request: ouppy mariana

can an ouppy and a bnuny truly fall in love ??

[moonstruckme]

touchy bestfriend james makes my brain short circuit i love it so much

can u write a touchy bestfriend james and he’s lying on the bed while reader is in the bathroom and r comes in and sees him and he tells r to come over and lie with him then they fall asleep but she wakes up because he’s awake and playing with her boobs like stress balls and r asks what he’s doing then he just says that they feel warm and soft

Okay this was definitely a rough attempt, but I hope you like it!

cw: pg-13 level smut

bestfriend!James x fem!reader ♡ 618 words

When you come in, James looks nearly asleep despite the sunlight still streaming in through the windows. His face has gone soft and squishy, lips in a half-pout from how his cheek is smushed into his pillow. His hair is getting so long he’s had to push most of it to the back of his head to be able to see his phone screen where he scrolls idly in front of him, but one stubborn curl falls down his face and rests on the bridge of his nose. 

“What, do I have a massive pimple or something?” he asks without looking up. “What’re you staring at me for?” 

You cover your embarrassment with annoyance, rolling your eyes as you lean against the doorway. “Just wondering why you look like you’re about to drift off at four in the afternoon.” 

“Because it’s nice and warm in the sun,” he answers easily. “C’mere, love.” 

You do what he says (you always do, in the end), crawling onto the bed and laying down beside him. James shuts off his phone, setting it down in favor of sliding his hand between your waist and the mattress, big palm coming to rest at your navel as he tugs your back closer to his front. You don’t know about the sun, but James is certainly warm. 

“Your arm’s gonna fall asleep,” you point out. 

“Don’t care,” he says, already sounding drowsier. 

“Don’t we have to be up to meet Remus and Sirius in a couple hours?” 

“We will be.” 

You’re out of protests, and not unhappy for it. James’ palm is warm and comforting on your stomach, his other hand reaching over you to rest just below your sternum. His breathing evens out quickly, and it’s that steady rhythm that eventually lulls you into sleep with him. 

You wake, an indeterminable amount of time later, because something feels odd. You rouse slowly, aware first of the pleasant warmth at your back, then of the fact that you’re fully clothed in James bed, and finally of his hands on your boobs. 

He’s squeezing them, feeling about with curious but sure hands, one tit in each. You lie there motionlessly, unsure if James is awake, or honestly, if you are. His touch is oddly comforting, and while your best friend is a very tactile person, this level of intimacy is unusual enough that you almost wonder if you might be dreaming. Then he squeezes too hard, and you’re sure you’re not. 

“Ow!” you flinch back into James, hand coming up to grip his wrist. “What, are you trying to get milk to come out?”

“Hm?” James’ voice is sleepy, less so as he realizes the placement of his hands. His grip loosens. “Oh, shit. Sorry, love, I was half-asleep. Didn’t realize I was doing that.” 

He doesn’t sound nearly as embarrassed as you would be in his situation, but that’s James. “It’s okay,” you say (really, it’s more than okay). “Just, it hurts when you squeeze that hard. They’re sensitive, Jamie.” 

You feel him nod against the back of your head. “M’sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to hurt ya.” He doesn’t move his hands, though, and you make no move to encourage him to. “They’re just really warm and soft, y’know?”

You do know. The thing poking into your back is warm too, though not so soft. 

“I mean, I don’t mind,” you say, glad you’re facing away so he can’t see the intense blush spreading over your face like a blight. “It’s sort of nice. Just…don’t squeeze so hard, okay?” 

James’ thumb soothes over the skin of your breast, a comforting touch and a promise. He begins to knead at it gently. “Got it,” he says.

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

HELLAVERSE x Reader - Part 2 of ? - Life with Owl Boi

GIF by honey-im-still-free

GIF by fatboychedda

GIF by idzymi

Summary: You're just some person who lived on your own in a slightly spooky town. Who knew demons would show up! Who knew they'd end up living with you?

Tags: Reader Insert, Hazbin Hotel Characters, Helluva Boss Characters, Fluff, Humor, Friendship, Romance

Relationships: ( & for platonic, x for Romance)

Stolas & Reader, Fizzarolli & Reader, Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader

Stolas was actually a pretty good roomate. After the initial awkwardness and hour tour, you quickly established some rules:

No breaking my stuff

No stealing my stuff

No hurting my cat

No hurting me

Don't be a jerk

Stolas agreed, saying these were rather reasonable terms.

You lived in a rather run-down house which was great because it was rather cheap. It had working wifi and the roof didn't leak and the water was clean so it was ok. So what if the doors were slightly ajar and the paint was peeling?

Anyway, because you had this run-down house you had an extra room to spare. you admitted to Stolas that it was rather dusty and mainly used as a storage room but he was just flattered you were giving him his own space at all.

Between the two of you, the room got cleared out and dusted and the small family of opossums living there were chased away, You didn't know they were there but that'd explain where your peanut butter kept going.

Stolas was talkative and somehow never said a thing. He'd often ramble about plants and stars or whatever interested him at the moment but would quickly end up apologizing over and over. You let him know you didn't mind. Also that you might zone out but it had nothing to do with him you just had a hard time focusing for any extended amount of time.

"I believe that's called Attention Deficient Disorder, yes? Or Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder?"

You told him you had no idea and just left it at that. He didn't pry, which you were thankful for.

Stolas told you a lot of things, and you did your best to remember the things that seemed important. You got him a small potted plant you saw at the hardware store as well as some basic plant-tending supplies. He was overjoyed and was basically in tears. So much so you were confused and worried that you had done something wrong.

"O-oh my, no!" Stolas fretted, wiping the growing tears off his cheeks "These are happy tears, my friend. I just- I can't really remember the last time someone got me a gift. It makes me...it makes me happy."

That gift opened the floodgate for you to get more random things you think he'd like. Glow-in-the-dark star stickers, small succulents and flowers, a funny looking stuffed animal of indeterminable species... That last one wasn't based on anything more than you just thought it'd be something he'd like.

It was.

He hugs it in his sleep.

Once Stolas saw you fretting over bills, he started feeling kind of...well. Very guilty. He was just staying here this whole time doing nothing while you constantly gifted him with things simply because you think he'd like them (and he does! it honestly doesn't matter what it is because you gave it to him and that alone make him happy).

And here you were paying for it all. It reminded him of his rather sheltered and pampered upbringing. And how selfish and conceited he could be because of it.

So, the owl demon threw on his best human disguise, went to town, and got a job.

...

You know this because you had to comfort him after said job.

"-and they just YELLED at me because I sat down for, like, five minutes??? My feet were hurting and the customers were so mean even though I didn't do anything to them??"

Man was not made for retail. You asked him why he got a job at all. His answer made you feel rather fuzzy on the inside. You hadn't even brought that up, but he noticed and tried to help.

You still asked him to quit because of how stressed he was. Maybe he can be like a live-in maid kind of thing? You couldn't really pay him for that but you'd take care of the money stuff... He agreed to that but insisted he try to find a different job.

You were just confused as to how he got one so quickly in the first place.

Eventually, life calmed down and you and your new roommate got into a bit of routine. Work, play, research ways to return to Hell, etc etc...

...then The Storm hit.

[panlight]

hi!! i’m so sorry to keep sending you asks (if you get sick of it please just let me know and i’ll shut up i promise!! 💕💕)

so this is re: the cullens being in high school, as per the ask you answered a couple days ago! i also always thought it was super weird, and i’ve been thinking for a while now that a MUCH better cover story would for them all (even carlisle and esme) to be grad school housemates (i say this as someone who has now spent two years in grad school and is about to be there for another five at least lmaoooo)

here’s why i think it would work:

1. the age weirdness wouldn’t be as obvious bc people of all ages go to grad school (i started when i was 22 and had classmates in their 40s)

2. related to age, the visible/physical age also wouldn’t matter as much since some of my classmates (me included 😭😭) looked like we could still pass as high schoolers while others gave off huge “kids and a mortgage vibes” even if they were just like a year older

3. the whole looking “off” and tired thing is just like. the grad school Look™️. the shadows under the eyes and general gaunt-ish appearance honestly wouldn’t stand out that much and if somebody said something about them looking “off” or whatever, they could just be like “late night studying” and the other person would be like “lmao so true bestie”

4. if they pretended they were all renting space in the same big house (and carlisle and esme just acted a little less parental), the whole “dating each other” thing wouldn’t be that weird at all. i feel like it’s not that uncommon for couples who get along to rent different floors or sections of a house, and if they didn’t pretend to be one big weird family situation and instead just acted like they all met each other at school, i don’t think people would even bat an eye

5. people go to grad school forever. like. for so long (i vaguely knew of someone who was in the eighth or ninth year of her phd). esp if they picked something like a big state school where the “kids” could go to undergrad first, they could realistically do four years of undergrad, maybe a two or three year masters, and then a phd of indeterminate length (usually at least five). that would allow them to stay in the same place for at least 11 years

and this is not an official point, but i will note that for carlisle to still do his whole doctor thing, i think it would be perfectly reasonable for him to have already “graduated” or whatever, but continue to stay with his “friends” for financial reasons, or just bc the living situation worked for everyone

anyway, i’m so sorry this was so long, and honestly i bet someone has already said this somewhere before, but it just struck me when reading the “why tf are the cullens in high school” post that grad school would be such a great cover story for them

haha anyway thanks for putting up with my ramblings and thank you for all the lovely work you do on the blog!! 🥰🥰

I've definitely seen "just put them in college!" before (and I have made that argument myself) but I don't know if I've seen the grad school cover story specifically before!

It would allow Esme and/or Carlisle to be the 'peers' of their children rather than some sort of guardian or parental figures. They could, as you said, all be renting a house together and Esme could be studying architecture or getting a PhD in art history or whatever while the kids study who knows what. Maybe there's a medical school as well and Carlisle can go back (it still makes zero sense that Edward and Rosalie go "to keep him current' like how is that supposed to work? They come home and just recite from perfect vampire memory everything that happened in calls? Wouldn't Carlisle be keeping current by like, idk, actually being a doctor, reading journals, going to conferences, and continuing education?).

A group of friends renting a house together as a bunch of couples makes way more sense than two parents barely visibly older than their foster/adopted kids who all date each other.

And, honestly, it's probably a better use of their time to get actual advanced degrees rather than stopping at undergrad? I know because of secrecy how they use their knowledge and skills is somewhat fraught but like, publish papers under a false name or let someone else take the credit or something and you can still contribute to the world of academia.

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

One in Eleven Million (ch. 5)

damian wayne x reader x jon kent

(A/N): A few more chapters to go. I'll try to post more regularly but honestly dates get away from me so fast. I hope you all enjoy!

Series masterlist linked here.

warnings: sensory overload, planes

wc: ~1100

~~

Jon swore that boarding time had only gotten longer the second time around. You attempted to shove him towards the already packed boarding lines. 

“You guys have carry-ons and you need to find a spot for them so go.��� You insisted. Over the loudspeaker, airline employees began allowing passengers in group two to board. Damian opened his mouth to argue again. Jon cut him off. 

“You’re right; we should.” 

You turned towards him, surprised, but took the opportunity. 

“Thank you, Jon. I swear I can in fact survive twenty minutes without you guys. I did take a whole other plane here before I met you.”

Jon wrapped his hand around Damian’s elbow and walked him to the gate. Damian’s eyes roamed over Jon’s face, calculating. 

“Are you alright?” There was a slight pause. “Overstimulated?”

Jon nodded. Even with his earbuds in, the people and the noise grated on his senses. Until his powers came back in their entirety or settled out, they’d be in flux, and Jon wanted nothing more than to get out of the simultaneously open and crowded gate. The dim space of the plane sounded like a haven, even enclosed as it was. Any other day, he would have argued more about staying back with you. 

Damian passed Jon his own sunglasses and took the lead, scanning his boarding pass then Jon’s and guiding him into the boarding bridge. The lights, unnatural and piercing as they were, were dulled by the sunglasses. Jon relaxed the tension in his forehead, now looking more so than squinting at Damian. 

“Thanks.” He pulled a deep breath in then let it out through pursed lips. 

“You know you can just tell me things like that right?” Damian nudged. The line moved and they stepped further down the bridge. 

“Yeah I just—everything’s weird and off balance and I’m missing the-“ His voice dropped to a whisper. “-powers that I’ve had since I was a kid so it’s-”

“A lot,” Damian nodded. 

“Yeah.”

Jon dipped his head in response to the flight attendants’ greetings as he passed them by, following the line as it continued on towards the end of the plane. 

“You take the end,” Damian instructed. “You’ll have window control and the corner if you need it.” He reached his hand out to take Jon’s carry-on.

Jon didn’t argue, sliding clumsily to the end of the row. He turned the small TV — built-in to the headrest in front of him — off before sinking into his seat. It let out a puff of air as he sat down. Above his head, the sound of wheels on plastic illustrated Damian lifting both carry-ons into the overhead bins. Jon realized belatedly that he shouldn’t have let Damian do that with his arm injury. Too late now. 

After a moment, Damian maneuvered — much more gracefully — into the chair beside Jon, shoving his backpack under the seat in front. His arm curled around Jon’s shoulders. Jon followed the movement, forehead tipping down to the crook of Damian’s neck and eyes fluttering closed. One of Damian’s hands combed through his hair. The other wrapped around Jon’s wrist. Damian did that sometimes — often. In some ways, Jon appreciated it: Damian’s own way of checking his heartbeat in turn. Sometimes, like today, a move like that made Jon feel small. But Damian was safe. Jon could be small with him. 

There were a few minutes of indeterminate noise before you arrived. Jon felt your appearance more than anything else and even then, mostly in the change in Damian’s posture. 

“Hey.” Your voice was low. “Jon okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m good.” You were addressing Damian but Jon answered anyway. “The airport was just loud.”

Damian’s hand didn’t move from his hair. Jon’s eyes stayed closed as you situated your bag under the seat and sat down. He assumed there’d been some sort of nonverbal communication over his head, but he couldn’t prove it. 

Jon sat up, eyes blinking open underneath the sunglasses. He recognized the worried look on your face — and didn’t that say something about how ridiculous the last twelve plus hours had been if he knew that face well already?

“I’m okay.” 

Your eyes narrowed in disbelief. 

“Or I’m getting there,” Jon amended. You seemed to take that answer better. In the middle seat, Damian huffed a laugh and switched to holding Jon’s wrist with his left hand. Jon didn’t pull away. Having Damian nearby, the warmth of his hand wrapped around Jon’s wrist, made all the difference. 

“Just let me know if there’s anything I can do.” Your eyebrows were still furrowed in concern. “Seriously.” 

Damian seemed to take you at your word so Jon nodded. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah, of course,” you reassured him. “We’re in this together now.” 

A flight attendant bustled down the aisle, shutting overhead storage and checking that everyone was wearing seatbelts. You moved your hands away from your waist and both Jon and Damian copied the movement. The flight attendant moved on. 

Jon dropped his head back to Damian's shoulder, eyes following as you reached down into your bag and pulled out the craft project from the day before. 

“What are you making?” Damian asked. You looked up at him, eyes flicking down to your lap then back up. 

“Oh, nothing special honestly. I just found this pattern and liked it. And it’s nice to have something like this to do when watching TV, I think. Or like when you’re on the phone with someone. To have something to do with my hands.”

“It’s beautiful.” Jon readjusted his position against Damian’s shoulder as Damian leaned towards you. “You’re talented.”

“I’m not, honestly. It’s not really art, just string and a pattern I found online.” 

“Tt,” objected Damian. “There are many forms of art.”

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen and welcome once again to flight 1221 nonstop to Gotham International Airport. Thank you all for your patience and adaptability around the delays. We are fourth in line for takeoff and running smoothly so we should be up in the air in no time. Please be aware that there may be some turbulence as we get up in the air so seatbelt signs will remain on until it is safe to remove them. Thank you all again, and have a great flight.” 

The loudspeaker was silent for a moment. Jon opened his eyes from whenever he’d squeezed them shut. The crackling in the pilot’s voice as it filtered through the speaker was more audible than it had been the night before. 

Jon winced as the flight safety video began playing. He was spared the flashes of light from the darkened TV screen but not the sound projected over the entire plane. Pulling his hood over his eyes, Jon curled away from Damian and into the corner of the plane, closing them once again. 

[best-tournament-blog-bracket]

@yen-sids-tournament @hot-take-tournament

yen-sids-tournament propaganda:

This blog Is very cool. A fun little thing is that everything thy like is a Disney poll so If I need to find new poll blogs I can just go through there

hot-take-tournament:

Official tumblr blog of carpreg as analyzed through the lens of both biological and ecological precedent. We also sell Orange Joe for the low low price of just -0.50$!!! No refunds. Orange Joe sold separately, exclusions apply.

Honestly I love how crazy it is there I have my very own tag where my insane asks are answered and all the hot takes are even more insane with things like wet bread is good and orange Joe is delicious so it's great here join us join us join us join us join us join us join us join us

Htt tournament fact #disco elysium +1: They are cursed by at least one god of technology. Proof:

Mod is British (I think, I just know for sure they are not from the USA), and every time any horrifying USAmerican thing crosses their radar, they say something about being horrified, and they are so adorably baffled, then all of us USAmerican followers add on and we get to see them more and more horrified as it goes on. Sometimes these revelations are from hot takes that have been submitted, sometimes it's from comments on the hot takes, but every time it's reassuring to know that we aren't the only ones horrified.

Their askbox got pissed in (I know this because of reasons), they deserve better.

Vote for htt or we’ll make you drink our patented Hatsune Miku Chicken Smoothie! (Pictured on blog header.)

Htt mod fun fact #(however many have been submitted): They spent an indeterminate amount of time, harboring the firm belief that Disco Elysium was invented by tumblr as a joke and not a real game!! On day six of the blog's existence, before (though not by much) we knew the horrors that could lurk in this place, Hot Take Tournament responded to an ask assuring them that another game existed with, "oh thank god you guys can't play with my heart like that, i thought this was gonna be like the time i found out disco elysium wasn't real, i was devestated" After multiple asks, we had to send them the wikipedia link for the game before they'd believe Disco Elysium was, in fact real and we weren't just fucking with them. ...so yeah, that's the disco elysium thing. This was day 6!! We were still under the impression that the worst we'd deal with were weird food takes!

[legionofpotatoes]

All other criticisms of modern Star Wars aside, the thing that gets me the most is how every single story is being written to fit into some Avengers-level grand finale that just isn't laying a solid enough foundation to make it worth the wait. Regardless of whether the individual stories are good or bad, what makes them fall so short, imo, is that there's usually no real payoff within their own runtimes (unless you count cheap callbacks or loose promises of More, which you shouldn't)

Like, I already knew halfway through Ahsoka that we were in for a cliffhanger and it's just like...alright, guess we'll see how this ends in about 5 years? Even Mando, which had a great first season and was poised to stand on its own two feet and ride off on a rootin' tootin' bounty huntin' adventure, has ultimately become yet another dusty path on the road to the current Big Plot with an indeterminate due date. That's not deliciously addictive media, it's a dry-ass carrot on a spindly little stick, lol

Of course, this is a problem that many franchises are happily getting cozy with lately because everybody wants to have their own Infinity War / Endgame moment, but I guess it seems a bit more egregious with Star Wars because, ironically, it used to work best because it had less overall focus. Like, sure, we had concurrent movies, animated series, and games, but they were always happy to do their own things and tell their own stories with definitive conclusions. Now it all has to funnel into the Big New Plot and, man, I honestly just can't bring myself to care when it feels like an endless waiting game

I definitely need to get around to watching Visions at some point because, every time it pops up, it sounds like the lifeblood that Star Wars sorely needs atm

Yeah the setup-and-payoff a-to-b type dramatic clarity that seemed so entrenched into the very bones of cinematic grammar - up to around the emergence of streaming, wink wink nudge nudge - is sorely missed in star wars atm. sure maybe downsized writers rooms fidgeting with limited series formats instead of doing actual seasonal TV has something to do with it, but even that is probably such a small piece of the larger issue that spins all this longform storytelling bullshit ferry wheel around.

Another part is certainly chasing the MCU business model of it all like you said. Carrot on a stick is verbatim how I've often described these things myself, the endless promise of another promise of another promise instead of forming a complete thought with a beginning and an end. servicing the plot before story at all costs. another part still is reverence towards the aesthetic trappings of the source material instead of its themes, trying to nail the exact texture of tatooine's huts and dial in the perfect balance of lightsaber choreography and pay homage to a thousand iconic shots before articulating something true in the text.

And like it's an endless laundry list, this confluence of capital-I Issues both industry-scale and creatively-driven that seem to be flaying the skin off the bones of whatever star wars even "is" nowadays. no one can answer that in the context of billions of dollars made off toys and storylines centering around this one moment in fictional history about sons and fathers and empires and rebellions. so they just keep twisting in the wind filling in any gaps within that period. I don't know nonnie, it's all so bleak. ahsoka and obi wan and even mando tbh. as charming as season 1 was, it truly felt like it coasted on its incredible restraint to avoid muddying its aesthetic with cameos, and lucked into effective storytelling as a result of that utterly unintentional alchemy. that's obviously well and truly gone now as its true optics have reared head.

what star wars is by itself is such a pointless discussion, right? andor argues it's a perfectly functional heightened universe that can support incredibly nuanced and dramatically charged stories of grassroots rebellion and the bureaucratic strain of fascist regimes. visions argues it's a world beholden to the force, an endlessly mutable and elegant metaphor that can support infinite monomyths and fairy tales. both are equally fantastic at executing on their takes, despite being in diametrically opposite extremes of interpreting the source. so it's not really about that at all, why the other stuff sucks this bad.

they're just bad at the craft of it, that's really it. whether it's auteur worship or business decisions rotting that fish down, it still rots all the same. maybe the new writers' guild contracts can shift the winds a little, because I was so securely done with star wars and then the aforementioned 2 shows came and affected me. so, so profoundly that I'm back on the hook again. like a lil sucker!

[hypexion]

It's The Legend of Ruby Sunday, an episode that's only so much about Ruby. Anyway on to the thoughts:

While this episode has many qualities, it is also still the big nothing much happens first part of a two-parter episode

I see New Rose has got a part-time job at UNIT. I didn't know they did those

For some reason UNIT is also employing an actual child. Kate what are you doing

The main event is the Time Window, which isn't very good. But it's the best they have

Honestly in spite of the mystery-box of it all I was engaged

Ruby can't catch a break and still does not learn about her mum 😔

I was expecting the cause of Mystery Mum's pointing to be linked to them using a window. Because a window works both ways

Also maybe they should have shut the window when the evil swirl showed up

"woah it's the TARDIS" is a good twist though

Meanwhile the Doctor's original goal before he gets distracted is the Susan Twist of Susan Triad

Turns out she's perfectly nice and is in fact just bait

I was convinced it was the return of the Beast somehow

Also for a moment I was thinking "Harriet... Saxon!?" but instead it was another Arbinger

The Mother and the Father and the Other you say?

Sutekh returns after 49 years and an indeterminate amout of time in the time tunnel

Incidentally in The Pyramids of Mars Sutekh was just a guy. A very powerful guy from a species of very powerful people, but not a super god

Also we confirm that in addition to being evil Sutekh is also a jerk what with the whole Triad Trap

Mrs. Flood is untrustworthy and kind of rude

The Trickster, the Mara and Sutekh meet on a neutral planet. It is a tense moment. The Trickster's teeth gleam. The Mara's eyes glint. Sutekh's... nose drips

next time: more sand than a concrete convention and maybe even some answers

[tomatoland]

The TopMew scene that was cut was redundant. We already know top is remorseful and Mew is angry. So I’m not surprised it was cut. He should have kept in the other Top scene though where he turned down the hook up. That would have been more impactful for the character.

Oops, I totally did not see this until now. I doubt you are still around, anon, but I’m going to answer this because I finally organized my thoughts.

I wasn't referring to just the break room scene in that post. It's a cascading effect. There is Mew's softened dialogue in EP 6 confrontation, the two previous cut TopMew scenes, and the break room scene. The fact that Jojo said he wish he kept those earlier two TopMew scenes should not be the case. He should not be regretting anything. Everything he wants to show us, should all be on the table. It is HIS art vision. And if they were not editing the episode the same week as it aired, he would have been able to realize that he wanted to put those scenes back in and done so.

That's what I meant by pacing and confirming the storyline is progressing the way he wants. But what is happening is one cut in one episode is leading to another cut in a future episode because there is no basis for the action anymore. As a result, we are losing overall continuity. And who knows what else they'll have to cut because of the editing choices they've already made. Which is why I am worried, they won't have the scenes left to make this a satisfying TopMew reunion at the rate they are going.

I wish we didn't have the interview where Jojo said that because it's making me not trust him with TopMew anymore. If he realized earlier that those scenes didn't fit, they should have done re-shoots but instead we just have cascading cuts.

Removing all these scenes is removing depth from TopMew. It is making them into surface characters. And none of this deleted footage is canon so there is that too.

Yes, definitely, the scene were Top is trying to move on is incredibly important to learning about Top and how he feels about Mew. And they should have kept that regardless of what random people in the fandom think.

But even the deleted scene of Mew's revenge fantasy of wanting to physically hurt Top from episode 7 is important because it provides a basis for his violent thoughts and words in the break room scene. I wish they had shown it at least the TopMew portion as a flash like an intrusive thought while he was in the tub. Everyone has intrusive thoughts, right? No one could fault Mew for that.

So by not showing us that Mew has had violent thoughts, now Mew's anger in the break room scene seems to come out of nowhere so it no longer fit.

I don't agree about the break room scene being redundant. The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.

So instead of knowing that Mew is still incredibly angry and therefore his actions are irrational, what we got was Mew saying "okay" to trying it again with Top here by the pool and then at the end of the episode, inviting Boeing to go wakeboarding with them and saying shit like this to him.

Oops. I meant to cut the collage below in half, but I’ve already hit 10 images, so read left column and right column separately.

Now, Mew just seems wishy-washy. I would rather have seen the depth of Mew's pain and rage then absolutely nothing at all, his indeterminable poker face however sweet it looks.

Mew being wishy-washy/indifferent or just deciding to get back at Top on any given random day means their relationship doesn't have a viable path forward right now. Because if they cannot communicate honestly and vulnerably about what happened with Boston, their relationship cannot ever heal and get healthy. They'll just always be stepping around the cracks. This is the albatross I was referring to in this post.

Mew has never broken down and cried. We've gotten the lone tear, here or there. And we know from this BTS that they have footage of Book crying his heart out. As the viewer, we haven't seen it because Jojo is not painting us a picture.

But removing the break room scene also removed depth from Top too and TopMew's relationship in general.

It shows us that Top is really sorry and willing to show with actions not just with his words that he wants Mew to move forward, so THEY can move forward. Him being unsure of how to handle a wrathful Mew, but still wanting to try. Him saying he already talked to Boeing, since Mew is deeply insecure about him. Him holding Mew's hand and trying to break down this fortress Mew has built around his heart piece by piece.

The song I posted of what I thought the scene could be saying if it had stayed in. Top's POV: "Love, I don't know how this shit works, but I know we could work things out if we just work together." And that's the key phrase "work together."

And this appeasement photo and answering a fan's tweet that we're going to see happy Mew soon. Jojo thinks we're so dumb.

All I want to do is scream back, "But are they ever going to TALK?!" TopMew cannot just solve this with sex. We need soul vulnerability. And I'm bloody annoyed because prior to episode 10 that is literally all they needed, but instead TopMew went backwards.

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

I was looking into my local zoo and they say they're zaa accredited, that's not the same thing as aza, right? I was curious if zaa was reputable and whether an accreditation from them really means anything

I think a better question, unfortunately, is "does any accreditation mean anything?" Followed closely by "how can a member of the public tell what it means?"

AKA you've poked to one of my giant projects of indeterminate length that I might, hopefully, maybe, get enough of a conclusion on to start submitting for peer review and publication this year.

Now if you've been following the blog for a while, you're probably thinking wait! Accreditations require standards! So to know what an accreditation means, we could just go read what standards they hold facilities to, right?

...and the answer is yes, but, that won't give you the whole picture for a lot of reasons. Many standards are performance standards: they say what has to be achieved, but don't specify how it's done. That means whether the standard is met is up to a significant amount of interpretation. Maybe the standards are in flux/being updated, and you can't guarantee that what you can find publicly is what's currently being used. Most accrediting bodies allow facilities to petition for variances, and there's no information available about what facilities have ones, for what, and why. On top of that, there's always questions about enforcement, oversight, consistency, anonymous reporting options, and of course, the risk of nepotism and/or politics impacting how accrediting decisions are made.

Here's the thing that never gets talked about, but is really important to know: accreditation is branding. Accreditation groups are trade organizations - they are responsible for advocating for the success of the businesses that are members. Being part of specific "accreditations" is like being in a fancy club. Members get certain perks, non-members don't get those perks, there's in-groups and out-groups, except it's all playing out with regards to federal and state level regulation, legislation, government funding, etc. That's why it's so political - it isn't only about guaranteeing a facility's quality. It's about guaranteeing that they're good enough to be part of the club, and will function and act the way the people who run the club want.

So honestly, at this point? All I can confidently say at this point in time is that accreditation by any entity in the zoological or sanctuary world means that X facility aligns with the ethos/zeitgeist of the accrediting body such that they're willing to stake their brand to it. You can read up on accrediting body to get a sense of what that means - if you do, make sure you look at things like the website and comments they make to the media, because there's a lot of information about organization culture and ethos in that than in just the published standards.

Give me like, six months (I hope) and I'd be able to answer your question with a lot more specifics, but I'm still in the nitty-gritty of spreadsheets and I don't want to speak before my analysis is finished.

[fic--writer]

Instinctive Charm

If Instinctive Charm were a spell, and Rolan had asked Tav to teach him the art. But the only way to achieve focus remains primal passion.

Chapter 3: Whatever my teacher desires. (final chapter) ⚠️ NSFW, SMUT

— It was really crazy, but I feel better now. Thanks, Tav. But I still haven't figured out how to use it to concentrate. - The truth serum stopped working, and Rolan was no longer anxious when he spoke.

— It will definitely help you, but not right away. Give yourself time to get back on track, to recover from the shock. Learn to live with it. For now we'll try another method of concentration.

He looked at her blankly, got up from the improvised bed and began to study the scrolls on the table.

Tav decided it was time to move on to the next part. The pleasant part. She noticed his nervousness and informed him:

— No, we won't be poking around in your brain any more. At least not today. Just relax.

She stood up and walked towards him, fighting her own indecision, but knowing that it would be foolish to back out now. Especially since she wanted to complete the ritual and check how hot the tiefling's skin could be:

— I would like to ask you a question. A rather personal question. - Tav said quietly - Tell me... are you a virgin?

— What? I'm, uh... - The Master of Ramazite tower choked up for the second time that day. - You really didn't think so, did you? No, I haven't for a long time... But no, I'm not a virgin. - Tav's question stunned him. And foolishly, he began to leaf through the scrolls on the table, pretending to study the magic formulas.

— There are physical methods. Well, to wake you up and get you going, and also to appeal to your instincts. - She pointed to his groin with an indeterminate hand movement. - Now, let's get on with it. Is there any chance that I might be your type? I know the truth serum has worn off, but… Remember, you have to answer honestly, whatever the answer is, it won't upset me.

— I... you know, it's really personal,' Rolan blushed and slapped the air with his tail, but then he pulled himself together and blurted it out: - Of course you're my... type. How could anyone not like you? Look at you, the saviour of Baldur's Gate. But... Why do you even ask that? - He tried to pick up the pile of papers he had unfolded earlier, but only managed to drop a few sheets on the floor.

— I'm asking because it's part of our class, remember why we're here? - Tav continued, flicking a strand of hair back in her face, trying to hide her embarrassment - Because exercise can really help you. If you haven't had a vivid experience for a while, it's OK. Bad memories are in the past, life has settled down and taken its grey course, and the new bright moments are not yet upon you. We'll fix that. There are... There are activities other than tantrums and pillow fights that give you a burst of energy. And they also appeal to basic instinct. These 'practices' help the wizard to create and channel the energy for the spell.

Rolan felt his mind begin to draw all sorts of not-so-decent pictures. But he nodded understandingly and finally left the papers alone. After all, Tav had really helped him, and more than once.

— Good. - She playfully spread her legs to give him a better view of her thighs peeking out from under her skirt. - I ask because if you've been through this before, you know exactly how much energy it has.

— The procreative instinct? You mean the thought of offspring? But... - he replied, lowering his head and feeling the colour engulf him completely. He was still waiting for some hidden catch. The thought of Tav offering him something like that so easily couldn't take root in his mind. Still, who knew these sorceresses from the Charm school.

— Does every mating end in a pregnancy? No, when you're passionate about someone, when you want someone, strive to possess them, you don't think about offspring at that moment. You're just thinking about - desire. The desire for intimacy is nothing but the desire of flesh for flesh.

She was so close to him that he swallowed, feeling her warmth again. The Archmage could smell her scent, the one he had missed in his excitement. The scent of rich, warm caramel and violets. Each of her words was like an incantation, filled with intense attraction. Each part of the sorceress' speech was more enticing than the last. She began to whisper to him:

— And if you're not a virgin, you know exactly how it feels. You know how your heart starts racing when you smell the scent of the one you desire. You know how your breath hitches just thinking about it. How your hands start to shake and your tongue starts to slip when you're afraid of scaring her off and making a fool of yourself. The way your knees tremble, the way your forehead sweats. You know - she whispered provocatively into his pointed ear.

— Tav, I... - he stammered, unable to find the words to express his thoughts. No sooner had he risen from the ashes, from these ruins of his life, than life took a completely different turn.

She ran her tongue invitingly over his lobe and continued:

— You know how your blood rushes and you blush, you know how your throat dries up when you realise that the lustful intentions are mutual. You feel your pulse racing.

— Tav, if you don't stop now, I'll... - The tension between his desire and his mind was at its peak. It controlled him like a puppeteer controlling his marionette. Rolan clawed and clawed at the table. Of course he wanted her, but he still doubted the reality and rightness of what was happening.

Tav didn't think to stop. She ran her lips along his neck and placed her hands on his chest:

— You know the way your flesh heats up and your hands reach for your partner. You know the burning sensation that hides in the pit of your stomach. You know the sensual sounds you'll elicit from each other. You know the hurricane that will break out between you. You long to taste it on your tongue. You long to touch and penetrate every cell. - She nibbled at the skin of his red, freckled neck with her moist lips, making him moan.

— Zurgan! I won't be able to stop if you keep do this - he said with a heaviness in every word. He still hesitated. Could he take what he wanted so easily now? But there was not an ounce of falsehood in Tav's mouth. Her words sounded selfless. She wanted him?

— You know exactly how it is, Rolan. I think I made it clear. Leave all your secrets in my body. - She let out a moan of anticipation and unbuttoned his shirt, running her hand down a torso too pumped for a wizard. Every infernal ridge sent a ripple through her hand as she moved.

The next moment, Rolan pulled his hands from the table with force and moved them to her cheeks, pulling her to him for a passionate kiss. And finally closed her babbling, lewd mouth. His chaos erupted as the tension cracked.

— I tried to warn you, but you wouldn't listen. - He growled, no longer hiding his intentions. His tail wrapped around her legs with such force that she had to work harder to get free.

Tav started to answer, but Rolan cut her off by placing his hand on her chin and covering her mouth with his thumb, which she immediately licked.

— I tried to warn you. Now hush you! - the archmage said, enjoying the jam of her lips. Their searching tongues collided again and again. His hands slid boldly down her back, claws carving shallow scratches.

The room filled with moans, the sound of their breathing and the rustling of pages scattered across the floor. On which they now stomped, almost losing their balance, searching for a foothold.

Rolan lifted Tav in his arms and laid her carelessly, barbarically, on the cushions. The Tiefling piled on top of her, pressing her hard and unrestrained against him. Pulling off the top of her dress, he clung to Tav's chest, like for ice cream on a hot summer day.

In that dense oasis of intimacy, his hand slid down to her throbbing clit. Which he could feel even through her underwear. He moved frequently, his hot fingertips sending shivers down her insides. The tension building up inside him was both tantalising and terrifying.

She wriggled and whimpered beneath him, and the Archmage couldn't stand it any longer. After all, it was her own fault for turning him on like that. Now that she was a whimpering piece of plasticine in his hands, he pulled his trousers down and then ripped Tav's panties off. Her little black lecherous panties. If they consisted of more than a couple of strips of thin fabric, they would have a chance of staying intact.. Rolan looked at her questioningly and she nodded in agreement with a wicked smile.

— Don't be greedy. - Tav said almost pleadingly.

The Archmage pulled aside the ribbons of her skirt and saw the mischievous sheen of her wetness. It beckoned and fascinated him, and the Typhling went straight for her entrance. Her heat rushed to his cock and he entered. All the foolishness of the world and his mind faded away in this gruelling desire.

We are entwined. We are your core desire, your flesh. Souls and bodies collide with terrible heat. Forget the shame in common nature. Leave me to my sins.

Oh, nature's gift to the Tiefling. The velvety skin of his thick cock was adorned with infernal ridges. It moved rigidly to and fro in a wild animal rhythm, and there was no other way. Rolan held her hips with his tail, pressing her hungrily against him. Tav shivered and wriggled beneath him, savouring the heat of his body now in all her innermost places.

Tav literally felt every spark that Rolan shot out of her body. Every now and then a moan escaped her lips. She was on edge, but she couldn't let them climax for the sake of concentration. To get the tiefling's attention, she grabbed his hair, pulled him towards her and bit his lower lip, pulling away before letting go.

— Rolan now. Right now. - She murmured.

— What, you already? - he squeezed out the words, uncomprehending, mixed with deep, hoarse sounds from the bottom of his throat.

— No, I haven't! For now, focus and concentrate all your attention. Gather all the energy of that instinct and cast the spell. Direct it at me, there is no one else. - she found it hard to think and speak in this position, but what one would do for the sake of learning and science.

Rolan realised what she wanted from him, but it was not easy to interrupt such an intimate and exciting process. It was a challenge to remember the theory, the verbal and somatic components of the spell. With an effort of will, he gradually slowed his rhythm, regained his focus and control of the situation.

— Try it now, come on. Concentrate on the sensations. - Tav insisted.

The tower master breathed in the scent of her hair and closed his eyes. He concentrated on the sensation that filled his entire being. He made the necessary gestures, his fingers swirling in the air like snowflakes. Rolan tried to cast the spell again, focusing all his passion on the target. This time the magical energy flowed through him and he felt the spell begin to form.

His magic affects those around her, mesmerising them, bending their will and changing their beliefs.

A glowing aura appeared around Rolan and he directed the flow towards Tav. She, the target of the spell, began to move like a doll under the influence of an unseen force. At his command, she picked up the pillow and threw it aside.

— It worked! - Tav rejoiced as only a teacher can for his pupil. - You did it!

— I really did it! - the inspired Rolan laughed, baring his frequent fangs.

But the next moment, when he remembered the position they were in and how they'd got there, he was embarrassed, his yellow eyes rounded:

— We? I'm sorry if... - He started to get off her in a hurry.

— I have nothing to forgive you for. It's all right. I wouldn't do anything I didn't want to. - She stopped him by grabbing his arm. Tav threw her head back and looked up from underneath him, playfully nudging him with her hips - You know, we don't have to stop.

The Tiefling replied with a cheeky smile and a sizzling look:

— Faz'iam quodzum volu'rit dilectus me magizta. - He spoke in infernal and Tav had a moment of doubt about her proposal.

Seeing her confusion, Rolan hurried to translate:

— Whatever my teacher desires.

[cordeliatheodoro]

Things I learned over my 5 years as a chronically ill person:

Obs: I have some kind of illness that's similar to Chron's disease, but like, not as bad. It still impacts my life in more ways than I ever expected, including fucking up my liver and mental health. Anyway;

Eating the "wrong" thing is better than not eating - when you have an illness that affects your appetite, the best course of action, in my experience, is to eat what you feel like eating. If that means having a jar of cookies for lunch, it's completely fine. Eat what you know your body will accept, because that's better than not eating anything or having your body reject what you eat.

Body fat = healthy - this is specific to my case, but I was just skin and bones before getting the right treatment. Even if I might feel bad because beauty standarts, getting enough weight and body fat to the point I became a midsized person (after years of being a walking skeleton) is something that should be celebrated. It means I'm eating enough and my body is becoming healthier.

You gain a hell of a pain tolerance - remember how I said my liver is fucked up? It means whenever I take painkillers, my stomach becomes a rebelious teen and tries to kill me. A.K.A, nausea, and actually throwing up if the medicine is too strong. I've learned to endure pain in order to not need painkillers, or to only take them if it becomes too much.

Kiss many adult experiences goodbye - Taking more than two sips of alcohol is a no-no, and don't even thing about drugs. I'm always the sober friend, which is not bad per se, but I would like it more if it was a choice.

You will be known as the sick friend (if you're the only one in the group) - I got sick at 12/13 and only got treatment for it at 16, so high school was HellTM. Get used to people asking if you're feeling alright everytime time your face moves two milimiters, and to cancel plans because you're sick. It also makes flirting with your crush harder, because they might see you as fragile (seems like people don't find you sexy if they know you have intestine problems).

Antidepressants are not exclusive for people with depression - Did you know the intestines are considered the second brain? Anyway, I was prescribed antidepressants (that also work as anxiety medication) to help with my chronic illness, and honestly, it kinda works.

Hope is good but don't hope too much - sounds depressing, but at least in my case, seems to be true. Things get better, and with the right treatment, you'll have a good life and achieve yours dreams, and overcome many, many symptoms and difficulties. And I really don't like thinking about it, but I know that this is probably my case, and it's a fact: I will never be 100% healthy again. Not like how I was before.

You won't have all the answers you want - I have an illness that's names, in my mother language, as "Indeterminate". It means doctors are not able to know how it developed, why it developed, if there's a cure, and how to treat it. The treatment I went through can only be described as "fuck around and find out". So yeah, sometimes you just have to accept there are no answers.

Anyway, this was depressing as shit, but I needed to get it off my system. To all my chronically ill siblings: hold on tight! We can do it!

[tinkabelle24]

To Build a Home

Chapter 4: Show Yourself

A/N: If the chapter title didn't give me away, I listened to Idina Menzel's "Show Yourself" a lot whilst writing this chapter. Ahh, the memories... 🥰😅

TW! No trigger warnings.

Masterlist / Chapter 3

---

Raph waited for Val to turn and shut the door, then silently slipped through the open window.

As one would expect, she freaked out.

The woman shrieked, grasping at the doorknob for support. It took a moment for her to realise who it was she was looking at, then fear quickly morphed into an odd combination of relief and anger.

"You're an ass."

She was upset. Understood. He did leave her hanging.

"Sorry," Raph replied sheepishly. A few more moments passed where neither said a thing. This was beyond awkward. Their relationship already felt so...is intimate the word? Yet they've never had an actual conversation.

The terrapin glanced about the apartment. It was old, with outdated appliances and thin, scratchy carpet. Yet it was immaculately clean; not a stain, speck of dust, or clutter of any kind to be found. In fact, she'd barely any possessions at all. Just a sofa bed, set of drawers, dining table and chairs. The only items that provided him any clues to her character were several small dishes on the kitchen counter, containing sprouted kitchen scraps, and a self-portrait with two younger, similar-looking individuals (siblings?) atop the drawer.

Raph noticed the scarf and pocketknife scattered at his feet and scooped them up. She approached him to retrieve the items, before setting them down neatly on the dining table.

He then noticed the lit candle, emanating a pleasant vanilla scent, and the single birthday card sitting next to it on the table.

"Is it ya birthday?" He enquired, gesturing to the card. Val glanced behind her to where he was pointing.

"Yeah," she answered, turning back to him. "Twenty-three today. Well, if you wanna get technical, in about...what time is it? 10:27. So, thirty minutes."

"Oh." His estimation was way off. "You're older than ya look."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Val attempted a smile, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "I was convinced you weren't gonna show up..."

"Yeah," Raph murmured, now struggling to maintain eye contact. "I, uh... I didn't think I would either..."

She still looked so cold with her flushed face, blue lips, and ashen skin. She'd been out there for so long in nothing but a shirt and pants, waiting for him, for him not to show up.

He felt ashamed.

"Were you watching me?" Her dark eyes burned into his. "While I was up there?"

The terrapin took a long, unsteady breath. "Y-yeah..." he finally answered. He saw the exact moment her face fell.

He'd hurt her.

This was such a shit idea...

She turned her gaze away from him, expression indeterminable. He expected her to snap and yell at him to leave or something in that vein, but she didn't.

She faced him again and asked, "What made you change your mind?"

What did make him change his mind? His emotions ruling over any logical thinking, as usual. Leo was going to have a field-day watching him suffer in the Hashi.

In all seriousness, he honestly couldn't pinpoint what pushed him to see her. Guilt? Intrigue? A yearning for connection? Unfortunately, he wasn't going to be able to give her a straight answer on that.

"I dunno," he answered earnestly, shrugging his shoulders. "It just... happened, I guess..."

Val simply nodded. She was so difficult to read in that moment; it was disconcerting...

"I-I do know though that I owe ya big for helping me that night. I woulda died if it weren't for you..."

Raph could see her steely expression soften as her gaze fell on his bandaged shoulder. Admittedly, he felt a little self-conscious under her scrutiny. It'd been weeks since he trained, so he'd lost a fair amount of muscle mass. He felt weak, and oddly exposed.

Donnie was prepared to make him wait another fortnight, citing 'wound dehiscence' or some shit like that, but he was having no more of it. He wasn't about to spend another two weeks holed up inside, doing jack fucking shit.

"Did anyone tell ya what happened?"

"That you were jumped and shot."

"Pretty much, yeah."

"What happened there - to your head?"

"Bullet skimmed the top of it."

Val's eyes grew wide. "Jesus...!” She gasped. “You're lucky they didn't blow your head off."

"Yeah..."

Raph was still miffed about how things transpired that night. He could try to justify it all he wanted but, at the end of the day, he ended up doing fuck all for anyone.

An innocent person still died and at least one of the perps is still at large. As a fun bonus, he inadvertently gave the Purple Motherfuckers a reason to target them.

All in all, a perfect fucking nightmare.

"Would you like some tea, or coffee?" Val gingerly asked, gesturing toward the kitchen. "I've got decaf, if caffeine isn't your thing. I love coffee, but I can't have any more than one regular one. It gives me the jitters..."

She rambles when she’s nervous. Cute.

"I can't, sorry... I've actually gotta head back to work."

"Oh, okay." She sounded surprised; he couldn't blame her. "What do you do, if you don't mind my asking?"

How do I positively describe vigilantism?

"Uh, well..." he began, wracking his brain for a suitable answer. "We... facilitate arrests, basically. Help the cops out a bit. The Feds also use us when they need help with bank heists and whathaveya; we're like their 'Ninja SWAT team', heh..."

The government knows about them, but most of the general public don't. They tried staying hidden, but acts committed by certain people (i.e., Mikey and himself... Okay, mostly him) forced them out into the open.

Cutting a long story short, they ended up collaborating with the NYPD to prevent an alien invasion, of all things. It felt validating for them to finally be acknowledged for their contributions to the city and as mentioned, an arrangement was made.

He could see the cogs in Val’s brain turning; she was trying to understand but was struggling to get there.

"It’s a lot," he reassured her, which seemed to put her at ease somewhat. The terrapin felt an abrupt buzzing sensation, and he stole a glance at his belt. His pager was going off. He had to leave.

"I don't have any more time to explain it to ya, unfortunately..." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward the fire escape. “I really need to get goin’...”

He turned to leave, but she stopped him.

"Well, would you have enough time over dinner?" She seemed almost frantic. "I didn't get the chance to say what I need to say to you. So...c-can I possibly convince you to meet me, one more time?"

"...I really shouldn't-"

“Look, I completely understand if you don’t wanna have anything else to do with one another... I just hope that that decision isn’t being influenced by what you saw that night. Because there’s so, so much more to me than that..."

Raph felt conflicted. Yes, that was part of it, but the main reason was that it was simply too risky.

The Turtles were comforted somewhat by the fact that their existing human friends have the means to defend themselves. Casey was a professional hockey player and street fighter, and April a Kunoichi. Two months ago, this woman could've been blown away by a slight breeze.

How could he, in good conscience, engage in a friendship with her when he knew she couldn't protect herself?

It would be irresponsible.

At the same time, she was insanely brave for risking her safety to help a stranger. Sadly, in their experience, most people would have just turned tail and ran. But she didn't. Even when he told her to leave, she stayed. She kept him safe when he couldn't defend himself and helped reunite him with his family. Her intervention saved his life, and such an act deserved recognition.

If another meeting with him was what she wanted, then he was prepared to do everything in his power to make that happen.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he finally answered. Val, who looked like she'd been holding her breath, finally relaxed.

“Thank you...”

“I can’t promise anythin’,” he added. “But I’ll try.”

The woman nodded.

Raph's pager buzzed, again, and he growled under his breath. If he made them wait any longer, they'd start tracking his location... If they weren't doing so already.

“Sorry, I’m keeping you...” Val stepped aside. “You can go, if you want... Thank you, Raph.”

Raph paused a moment, stunned by that not only did she know his name, but his nickname...

Mikey.

When the shock finally wore off, he acknowledged her briefly, before slipping out through the window and into the night.

The most difficult part was yet to come – convincing Leo.

---

“Oh, how kind of you two to finally grace us with your presence!”

Here we go...

Trudging into the Lair, Raph and Mikey were immediately confronted by their incensed eldest brother. “Do you guys not know how to answer the damn phone?!” Leo exclaimed as he rose from his seat in the living room. “Where have you been – and don’t you dare lie, because I know exactly where.”

“Where were we then, Leo?” Straightening his posture and distending his plastron, Raph attempted physically discouraging Leo, to which the leader in blue responded by matching his brother’s offensive stance.

Leo’s scowl deepened. “Don’t start with me, Raph,” He growled. “Why were you at that girl’s apartment?”

“We were just dropping off the stuff she left behind,” Mikey insisted, attempting to diffuse the situation.

“And that takes twenty minutes, does it?”

“Hang on – how'd ya know it was her apartment?” Raph demanded. The red-banded terrapin turned to Donnie, who immediately averted his gaze. Quickly realising what they'd done, he fixed his gaze on his eldest brother, who was still loudly expressing his disappointment.

“You’re unbelievable...” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this! You, of all people... Where’s the honour in invadin’ someone’s privacy, Leo?? And ya got Don to do the dirty work for ya... You’re a goddamn hypocrite!”

“I had my reasons,” Leo replied curtly.

“Oh, really? Pray tell.”

“I'll do anything and everything in my power to protect this family, Raph. Unlike you-”

“She’s harmless!”

“How would you know?” The leader challenged. “You didn’t even know her name; we had to tell you that. Unless there’s something you aren’t telling us, you know the least about her out of the four of us.”

The red-banded terrapin growled in exasperation. All three of his brothers were looking at him now, waiting for him to respond. The jig was up.

“Fine,” he relented. “Yeah, there is somethin’. I have met her before. Briefly.”

Leo eyed him suspiciously. “When, and how?”

He doesn’t need to know the finer details...

“When - the night I watched Tyler; the ‘how’ ain’t my business to tell.”

“That makes zero sense.”

“That’s what I told him!” Mikey blurted. Raph shot him a sharp look.

“Ya wanna know so badly,” the red-banded terrapin returned his gaze to his eldest brother, words dripping with disgust. “Instead of creepin' around on her public record, talk to her. She wants a meeting – more specifically, with me.”

Raph paused a moment to compose himself. He had to try to appeal to Leo’s better nature, otherwise this argument was going to continue in circles.

“Listen,” he began, voice even now. “This girl needs some closure; I think the least we can do is give her that. Doncha think?”

Masterlist / Chapter 5

[could-they-beat-donald-duck]

So let's get this out of the way because I'm sure this blog is giving you many questions, namely why and how?

Well the short answer for why is that it's something I've been thinking about for a very long time and honestly I really need a creative outlet. As for the how? Hoo boy it is genuinely shocking how powerful Donald Duck is if you put in the research. To start, he served in the navy meaning he has at the very least basic combat and firearms training. On top of that he has standard toon physics which are unique to most western animated characters which means he can easily shrug off most attacks that would normally hospitalize people including being cut in half, taking explosions point-blank, falling from indeterminately tall heights.

He also has been shown to draw upon a berserker rage which can amplify his strength and speed to monstrous levels as is often showcased in classic cartoons but was given the most focus in the 2017 Ducktales cartoon in which his rage was often the deciding factor in the matchups he was subject to throughout the show. But that's only scratching the surface because his strength rockets from a provincial threat to a world threat if we choose to take his Kingdom Hearts incarnation into account. Donald from Kingdom Hearts is a powerful spellcaster with an arsenal of offensive spells reaching up to the -za level in terms of power including the very powerful Flare and its variants which is considered an "Ultimate" spell. Already an impressive feat in itself but Square Enix decided to massively buff this duck in Kingdom Hearts III where it was revealed he is capable of casting the spell Zettaflare. Zettaflare is a spell on a level unseen in any other Square Enix game and the only other person to use it was drawing directly from the power of the dragon god Bahamut. Now granted, casting that spell took enough energy out of Donald to make him fall unconscious but the very fact he was able to cast it already places him as one of the strongest Black Magic users Square Enix has ever created. Because of the shocking level of power displayed by Kingdom Hearts Donald, most of these matchup analyses will be divided into "Could they beat regular Donald" and "Could they beat Kingdom Hearts Donald." Lastly despite the level of seriousness with which I take these matchups, always remember at the end of the day that this blog is not meant to be taken seriously and has a miniscule amount of bias. If the difference in power between Donald and an opponent is close, and I think it would be funnier to see Donald Duck emerge victorious, I am more likely to lean in his favour. Just remember that none of these characters are real, nor are any of these scenarios likely, so please don't get upset with me if your favourite character is just objectively weaker than Donald Duck.

[xxrainshadowsxx]

Interpersonal Chapter 16

So... what do you do when you learn your boyfriend has been committing eco-terrorism?

You’re not sure how long you cry for. Time does not exist. At some point, you think Aurora asks if you want to go to the hospital to see him one last time, but you vehemently reject that idea. You don’t want your last memory of him to be of him in a coma.

Onceler’s there for you the entire time, never saying anything, never leaving, just being present and holding you together, both figuratively and literally. The only time he leaves your side is to grab you a glass of water once you cried yourself hoarse. You can’t fathom how you could have ever gotten through this without him.

And after the worst of it was all over, all you knew is that you were exhausted. Instead of leaving you to sleep on your own, he still stayed with you in case you needed him; he let you lay down on his chest, the steady cadence of his heartbeat rocking you into a blissful state of unawareness….

“How is she?” You vaguely register Aurora’s voice an indeterminate amount of time later, but you’re in no mood to acknowledge her or even lift your head; you’re far too comfortable and you’d much rather go back to sleep. But Onceler answers her, and the slight vibrations under your head means that more sleep isn’t going to happen just yet.

“I mean… she wasn’t okay. But I think she will be,” he murmurs, stroking your hair. “I’m just doing my best to help her get through this, but I don’t know how good of a job I’m doing. I don’t have any experience grieving a family member.”

“I think you’re helping her more than you know,” Aurora tells him. “And you’re very lucky that you haven’t had anyone in your family who’s died yet. It fucking sucks.”

“Well that would mean I’d have to have family I cared about in the first place,” he mutters. “That used to bother me a lot, but then I met her. We’ve made a family together, and that’s the only one I need.” He says all this without a hint of embarrassment. He’s completely confident in what he feels for you.

“You really love her.” She doesn’t phrase it like a question, but he answers it like one anyway.

“Yeah. I do. She’s changed my whole life. At this point, I can’t imagine my life without her in it.” His arms tighten around you ever so slightly, and it’s all you can do to pretend you’re still asleep.

“Can I ask you something? And I need you to answer me honestly.” Oh fuck. She’s going to ask him the same thing she asked you at the hospital. And you absolutely have to hear his answer.

You assume he nods, because Aurora continues speaking. “Do you want to marry her?”

“Yes.” There’s not even a moment of hesitation. You let out the tiniest of squeaks that you pray to whoever’s listening that they didn’t hear. They continue like they don’t. “I want to spend the rest of my life with her. And I’m the luckiest man alive that I think she feels the same way.”

“Well good. She might not admit it, but I know she wants to get married. And I know you asked Dad for permission. I stalled as long as I could in the hall for you.” You can’t see her, but you can still hear the grin on her face.

“Er… yeah, I did,” he laughs nervously. “I was afraid I wouldn’t get it since he didn’t know me, but he said it was mine as long as I loved her, and I definitely do.”

“Well I know she loves you, and she’s never fallen in love with anyone before. And even more of a miracle, you got me to like you. Don’t fuck it up. She deserves all the love in the world and then some.”

“I don’t plan on ever leaving her. I want to give her the world,” he whispers, running his fingers through your hair again. You hear Aurora leave as you try and process what you just heard.

He really did get your dad’s permission.

He… he wants to marry you!

And now you were going to have to pretend like you didn’t know anything. It was going to be utter agony.

But it was going to be so worth it on the other side. Because now, after hearing it from him, you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you also wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. In a strange way, you’ve always known. Ever since he’d come into your life, you couldn’t fathom your world without him in it.

You’re only able to feign sleep for about twenty or so more minutes when you can’t take it anymore. You pretend to stir, pushing yourself off of Onceler’s chest. Smiling doesn’t exactly come naturally to you at the moment, but you manage to give him a small one before snaking your arms around him.

“Thank you… for everything,” you murmur. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” He doesn’t know it, but you mean it in so many more ways than just him helping you cope with your father’s death.

“Of course love,” he says, kissing the top of your head. “Anything you need, I’ll be here for you. God knows you’ve helped me more than enough. Do you want something to eat? Water?”

“I’m okay,” you decide for now. “Honestly, I just want to get out of this bed and stretch my legs.” He releases his hold on you, and you make your way out to the small living room where Aurora is folding laundry.

“Hey,” she says with a little smile. She walks over and pulls you into a tight hug. “I know you were awake,” she whispers. “So if you had any doubts left about him, hope I just killed them.” She pulls away, giving no hint about the bomb she just dropped, while you can only pray your own face isn’t bright crimson.

You sit on the couch and try to focus on the TV instead, but get another shock when you see yourself on it. Aurora’s put on some sort of celebrity gossip show, albeit on mute, and they’ve clearly started talking about you and Onceler from his party (how was that only two days ago?). 

You lunge for the remote to unmute it, but another hand grabs it before you can. You look up and see that it’s him. “They don’t matter,” he reminds you before turning the thing off.

“There was something I wanted to talk to you about anyway,” Aurora interjects. “How long can you stay for?”

“I got a week off,” you say absentmindedly, still eyeing the TV maliciously. You’d emailed your work on the flight here, and they’d thankfully been very understanding of your situation.

“Okay, good. That should give us enough time to get together Dad’s funeral, and then you can fly home after that… I assume? I don’t know how the fuck private jets work. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you’re rich as fuck now,” she muses.

“Oh no. I’m not rich. He’s rich. There’s a difference,” you emphasize. You had no claim to a cent he made unless he did marry you and you decided to combine finances. There was a lot to talk about if he did end up popping the question soon–he’d probably want a prenup, how big of a spectacle did you want to make this, and of course, you couldn’t avoid talking about kids forever.

But one step at a time. No matter what you heard, this was his decision to make, and when to make it. But you just rest easy knowing that it would come in time. And you would say yes when it did.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A couple weeks after you got back, you were still processing how different your life was. While your daily life hadn’t changed much, there was still the psychological difference of knowing both of your parents were gone.

You were also reeling from the madhouse that had been your dad’s funeral, which Onceler was still apologizing for, even though it hadn’t been his fault at all. Your hometown was small, as he’d learned, and because of that everyone knew you. And due to him being an internationally known celebrity, everybody was also aware that you were dating him. Aurora had foreseen danger and had asked for no pictures at the funeral.

Someone hadn’t listened. They had taken a picture of the two of you coming in, posted it on social media, and by time you tried to leave a few hours later, there were paparazzi swarmed outside, clearly not caring that it might be a sensitive time for you.

And as if unannounced, unexpected journalists weren’t bad enough, one of them had sneezed, nearly directly in your face. It hadn’t hit you, but it was close enough to catch whatever he had, so you’d come home with a nasty bacterial infection. Thankfully, your doctor had given you medication that had cleared it up almost right away. You’d been feeling fine for days now, and had taken your last antibiotic that morning.

You’re making your way to Onceler’s office for lunch as you usually do. It was gray outside, an omnipresent color in the sky since you’d gotten back to Thneedville. The air itself seemed bad, too, but you didn’t know what that could be. The city probably just needed a good rainshower.

As you step into the building, almost immediately you can tell something is wrong. There’s no one around. It’s as silent as a graveyard. He hadn’t answered your texts that morning, but that was normal. You’d assumed he was just busy. This silence, this emptiness… this definitely isn’t normal.

You take off at a run in the direction of his office, your footsteps echoing loudly. You have an awful feeling in the pit of your stomach. If something happened to him…

As you turn the corner, you see his new PA stepping out into the hall, looking confused and a little disturbed. “What happened? Why isn’t anyone here? Is he okay?” you fire off, making him look more disturbed than ever.

“Um… I-I really don’t know,” he stammers. “He was his usual self most of the morning, and then like half an hour ago he started going around yelling at everyone to go home. He’s been talking to himself, looking stressed… no one knows what’s going on. He’s still in there.”

You don’t need to hear anymore. Something had happened, and you needed to find out what that something was immediately. You push open the now familiar oak doors, eyes searching him out.

He’s at the very back of his office, turned away from you. He seems to be arguing with someone just outside the door that’s back there, but you can’t see who it is, nor can you make out any individual words. “Baby? Are you okay?” you call.

He spins around towards you, his face stark white. Apparently, he hadn’t heard you come in, and didn’t realize what time it was. There’s a gruff voice you don’t recognize coming from outside calling for his attention, but he slams the door on them unceremoniously. “What are you doing here?” he yells, his tone harsh and unfamiliar.

You take a step back. He’s never used that tone with you before, and you don’t like it at all. “Excuse me?” you ask, your own voice low and dangerous. You’ll give him exactly one chance to fix his mistake.

At least he does seem to realize he fucked up. “I… uh…” He’s floundering for words like you’ve never seen before. “Why are you here? You shouldn’t be here!” he ends up spouting out, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“That was the wrong fucking answer,” you accuse. “You absolutely do not get to speak to me like that. What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing,” he says way too quickly and with a faker smile than you’d ever seen before. It’s like he wasn’t even trying to be convincing, and you don’t buy it for a second.

“There’s no one here, you were clearly arguing with someone outside, and your PA said this only started about half an hour ago. I’m not an idiot, Oncie, I know something had to have happened.” He flinches at the use of your pet name for him, and you notice that all of the sudden he looks terrified. You walk up to him and take his hands, trying a different approach now. “Baby, please tell me. Maybe I can help you,” you implore.

He says nothing, but grips your hands so tightly that it’s almost painful. You just wait. If it’s a contest of patience, you’re determined to win.

The phone shrieks, breaking both of you of your concentration. He looks at you for a moment, then lunges for it, but for once, you’re quicker than him. “Yes?” you say as you answer it.

“You’re there?” One of his lawyers is on the other end, sounding like they’re suffering from a cold sweat instead of being cool and confident. “You need to get out of there now. For your own safety. The forests–” The line suddenly goes dead, and you look around in bewilderment.

You find him standing right next to you, the phone cord in his hand. He’s unplugged it. Whatever had happened, he didn’t want you to know. Dread begins to fill you.

“What happened with the forests?” you whisper, though you’re not sure you want an answer. His eyes go wide, both with fear and anger, but he stays stubbornly silent. “What happened to the forests?” you shout, nearly at the point of hysteria.

Your eyes wander behind his desk, where the curtain is covering the window that shows the forests. A horrifying realization suddenly hits you. He’d closed that curtain right when you’d started dating him. You’d never seen it open since. Which meant this had been in the works for months now. The length of your entire relationship, at the very least.

You dash over to the curtain, but before you make it, his arm is around your waist, preventing you from getting any farther. You whip your head around to look him dead in the face. “Don’t you dare touch me,” you hiss. He drops his arm slowly, and behind his eyes you can see the gravity of the terrible wound you’ve just inflicted upon him. But you have to know.

You make your way to the curtains, unhindered now, and throw them open.

You almost can't believe the sight of devastation that greets you. The last time you'd looked out this window, the view was of a lush valley, trufulla trees as far as the eye could see. Now, there was nothing but ragged stumps, smog, and the occasional axe head on the ground. And it wasn't just the trees that were gone. Every plant was dead, down to the last blade of grass. 

You slowly turn back to face him. "What did you do?" you whisper. You want him to refute you. You want him to deny it. But the look of guilt on his face is admission enough.

And the deforestation, as awful as it is, isn't even the worst part. You had to confront the other truth, the one you'd begun to suspect several minutes ago and were all but sure of now. "You never intended to tell me, did you?" you ask in a flat, dead voice.

Instead of answering, he just deflates, and your chest starts to physically ache. It fucking killed you to see him, usually so proud, charming, even a little cocky, so broken and defeated. You loved this man. What the hell were you supposed to do?

You once again have to be the one to break the silence after several minutes of it have passed. "What do you want me to say? What the hell were you thinking, doing this? And worse, not telling me?"

"I didn't want to worry you with my problems," he finally mumbles. "These were my own issues. They shouldn't have been your burdens as well."

You shake your head in disbelief. "That's the whole point of a relationship," you growl. "The other person is there to help you when you need it. I thought you understood that. I let you see me at my most vulnerable. But you couldn't trust me to do the same."

"No, that's not it," he desperately tries to explain, sounding like he's close to tears. "You were helping me so much, you were my world, you still are my world. I just didn't want to pile on more of my baggage and have you decide I wasn't worth it anymore. It's not that I don't trust you. Darling… please."

You sit at his desk and bury your head in your hands, hot tears stinging the back of your own eyes. You can hardly bear staying in this room; you feel it suffocating you. Some of your best memories had occurred right here, but they were all tainted now. You hated it.

After several more minutes, you finally look back up at him. "It's not your trust that's the problem anymore," you rasp, so close to tears. He's hitting you with those big puppy dog eyes that have enabled him to get his way so many times in the past. Your resolve wavers and you have to disconnect. You have an almost out-of-body experience as you hear yourself say, "The trust that matters now is mine. Because you have completely broken it."

At your words, you do see a few tears fall from his eyes. It seems like he's understanding the weight of the situation now, but it still left one question. You didn't want to address it. You wanted to say you could forgive him, that you could work through this. But when your trust had been so utterly decimated like this… you weren't sure you could say that.

Even the thought makes you let out a dry sob. It hurts. Oh God, it fucking hurts. Because no matter what he had done, it remained that you had loved him, and you loved him still. Whatever became of you after today, the fact that you love him would never go away.

"I think… I think I need some space," you breathe out, and his entire body language changes from penitent to frantically fearful faster than a traffic light.

"No! I can't lose you!" he begs. "Needing space is always another way of saying breaking up. Darling… I love you, I can't lose you." You say nothing, not trusting yourself with something as delicate as words. You just stand and head towards the door, but start in alarm when he grabs your hand, whirling you around to face him. "I love you," he repeats, tears streaming freely down his face now. "And I didn't want to do it like this but…" 

You have no clue what he means by that, but he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a simple black case before throwing himself down on one knee at your feet. No, no, no, not now, he can't be doing this now…

But then he opens the case and there sits a stunningly pretty ring. The band is gold, with small diamonds decorating it, finishing off with a larger but not over the top round diamond in the center. It's gorgeous, not gaudy, and exactly your style.

"I know I fucked up," he murmurs. "But I don't want to lose you. I've been planning this for weeks now. I-I want to marry you."

You're stunned into silence. You'd been imagining this moment ever since you'd learned he'd asked your dad. You didn't know if he'd go for some big, romantic gesture, or if he'd be so nervous he'd trip over his words in that endearing way of his.

But in all of your imaginations, one thing remained constant: your reaction. You'd always pictured yourself elated with glee, saying yes before he could even get the whole question out. Never did you think there would be a possibility where you might turn him down. Or that it would hurt this much.

You would have said yes yesterday.

You would have said yes fifteen minutes ago.

You still want to say yes. There's still a very large part of you that wants to ignore the past few minutes and all you'd learned, put that ring on, and work things out. 

But for some reason, you couldn't make yourself do it. Why couldn't you? You wanted to work things out. You wanted to fight for this. He was worth it. Your whole relationship was worth it.

But the fact that you couldn't trust him reared its ugly head once more. And if you couldn't trust him, you couldn't marry him. You needed time to heal, process everything, and truly think about where you wanted to go from here.

You couldn't do that with his ring on your finger.

It kills you to do it. But you feel yourself shaking your head once before ducking away, running out of the office so you wouldn't have to face his heartbreak as well as your own. You knew you'd change your mind if you were forced to confront the damage you did to him. It was cowardice on your part, but it was the truth.

It takes every ounce of willpower you possess to make it out of the building and not run back to him. When you finally get outside, you're almost jarred by the fact that it isn't raining. Isn't that how it always happens in movies? Your life had been like a movie, like a fairytale, for the past year. It would have been morbidly poetic, and yet fitting, for it to end like one as well.

Movie or not, rain or not, nothing could have stopped you from falling to your knees, and then to your hands as well a minute later, taking deep gasping breaths as your whole self tries to vehemently reject what your mind knows to be true. How could he do this? Didn't he love you? At what point did you not become enough for him that he felt like he couldn't share everything with you?

You're starting to get a headache now, feeling like you might get relief if you could only start to cry. But your grief seems to be beyond tears. Within the span of a month, you've lost your father, your future… and now you might have just lost the love of your life as well. 

You don't know how long you stay on that sidewalk, gasping for air. Time is inconsequential. All you know is the crippling ache of drowning in an ocean of despair, with no end in sight.

I'm so sorry. But before you all come after me with your torches and pitchforks, I just have to say, this isn't the end. We still have a few more chapters to go.

[instantinternetcrush]

i think to myself quite often that i miss the early days. but i find it to be mostly inaccurate, i miss the every day. i miss showing up at your job, and hearing you yell my name from behind the counter. sitting at the table and bantering about phone service. bringing you lunch, and defiling the back room. i miss our inside jokes, the games, the way you smiled and how it felt like it was just for me.

i miss the love we never gave a name. i miss laying my head in your lap, sneaking away and going on walks. i miss kissing your cheek when no one was looking, watching movies in my bed with your arm around my shoulders.

i miss saturday mornings after you slept over on fridays. i miss getting to be silly. planning the revolution over whiskey and drake. sharing everything like it were trivial. saying goodbye forever, halfway quoting the princess bride.

talking sports and feeling so inconsequentially small, yet so seen and loved regardless. your sleepy kisses and our traditions. kissing the scars on your collar and the way your teeth felt on my neck.

feeling smarter than the apes, gossiping and bickering over who would or would not buy dinner. being the evil twins. watching him pretend not to know that you were the guy i talked about whenever they asked about my love life.

you were, still are, my best worst kept secret. the answer to the prayers i never said aloud. the james to my jesse, bonnie and clyde, princess bubblegum and marceline. best friend first and lover second.

i know its both of our faults. i know that you hated the fact it was never really about the sex as much as i did. i’ve never met a person who i genuinely considered to be my equal before you. that’s probably the low empathy talking, but you said the same thing to me once.

is it as hard for you as it is for me? do you go through town and remember being called ghosts? sleeping on their floor like it was a twin bed? do you remember our not dates? see a movie title added to the marquee in town and remember that we promised to watch it together?

most nights you’re in my dreams. i call you a witch when i wake up. half accusing you, half remembering that other promise you made.

i still think about another life. maybe one where we didn’t fuck everything up so royally. maybe one where we never met, or met better. i know in some parallel universe i find you on the shore of lake michigan, skipping stones. in some other world our stars align in the real way, not just on the chart or in the full moon.

i really do honestly believe you now. cosmopolitan magazine says we’re in the separation stage now. that we’ll reunite again in an indeterminate number of years. you’ll find me with a better haircut and acceptance.

i still feel your absence in a way i never cared about with anyone else. i’m still terrified of intimacy.

the songs don’t sound the same anymore.